In the Whirl of the Rising Part 13

Could he be the genuine Qubani? There was absolutely nothing suggestive of the witch-doctor about him.

"This, too, is Umtwana Mlimo?" said the sorcerer, with a good-humouredly quizzical look at Father Mathias.

"Of the Great Great One above--yes," answered the latter.

"_Ou_! The Great Great One above! I am a child beside such," rejoined Qubani. "My father, _u'gwai_ [tobacco] is scarce among us at present,"

reaching out his hand.

Laughing, the priest gave him some. Then, as they chatted further, Lamont became impatient, though he did not show it. He had got at all he wanted. He had seen Qubani, and now he wanted to start, and it was with unmitigated relief that he hailed the arrival of Gudhlusa, who came to tell them that Zwabeka was no longer sick and hoped they would not depart without coming to bid him farewell. The chief's quarters were in a little enclosure apart, right on the opposite side of the kraal.

Leading their horses, which they had already saddled up, they accompanied Gudhlusa; the _isa.n.u.si_ also falling in with them. Zwabeka was a tall, elderly, rather morose-looking savage; and his tone as he talked with them was dashed with melancholy. The times were bad, he said--yes, very bad. Their cattle were all dying of the pestilence, and such as did not die, the Government had killed. "Where was U'

Dokotela?" [Dr Jameson.]

Now Lamont became wary. It was impossible to suppose that the news of the Raid had not reached these people--for natives have a way of obtaining news, at almost whatever distance, rather quicker than Europeans with all their telegraphic facilities. So he answered that he was away, but would soon be back.

"He should not have gone," was the chief's rejoinder. "While U'

Dokotela was in the country it was well. He was our father, but now-- whom! Well, the Government is our father instead."

This, uttered with an air of beautiful resignation, was tickling Lamont to the last degree. But he answered gravely that that was so indeed.

Then he announced that they must resume their way, but first he had a gift for the chief--producing a half-sovereign.

"_Nkose! Baba_!" cried Zwabeka with alacrity, receiving it in both hands, as the way is with natives. "And the white _isa.n.u.si_--is he not my father too?"

"I am a poor man, chief," answered the priest, mustering his best Sindabele. "Yet--here is something."

Zwabeka looked at the silver without great enthusiasm, while the bystanders muttered--

"A poor man? _Yau_! An _isa.n.u.si_ a poor man! _Mamoi_ was ever such a thing heard of?"

"It is true _amadoda_," said Lamont. "The white _isa.n.u.si_ give away all the gifts _they_ receive--and more."

A ripple of undisguised laughter ran through the group. An _isa.n.u.si_ give away all he received, and more! No, that was too much. Lamonti was trying to amuse them.

They bade farewell to the chief, and those present. Outside the enclosure Lamont picked up his gun, which in accordance with native etiquette he had left there, taking care, however, that there were no cartridges in it, in case of accidents. As they mounted their horses at the farther gate, the witch-doctor came running up.

They had forgotten something, he declared. These great ones had forgotten him.

"That is true," said Lamont, with a laugh, "yet not altogether. I did not want the chief of this kraal to know that I thought the chief of _iza.n.u.si_ equal to him by giving him an equal gift. Here it is."

"_Baba, Nkose_!" sung out Qubani, turning inquiringly to the other. But Lamont laughed.

"Now nay, Qubani--now nay. Two brethren of the same craft do not take gifts from one another. They take them from those outside."

The old man chuckled at this, and with sonorous farewells he dropped back.

"I'm afraid that has been rather an expensive visit--for you, Mr Lamont," said Father Mathias, as they rode along.

"Yes. But I had a reason for it, which may or may not hereinafter appear," was the somewhat enigmatical reply. And soon they came to the point where their roads separated, Lamont no longer pressing his companion to come on and visit him. In fact he would have been seriously embarra.s.sed had his former invitation been accepted--now in the light of subsequent events. He wanted to act unhampered, and to do that he must be alone. But as they parted he said--

"I don't want to set up a general scare, but if you were to warn the people at Skrine's Store, or any other whites you come across, that if they keep their eyes open for the next few weeks, and take care not to run short of cartridges--why, they won't be doing the wrong thing. You know I've always said we should have more trouble up here, and have been jeered at as a funkstick. But I've just learnt something that tells me that that trouble is a great deal nearer than we think; in fact, right on us."

"What? Here--at this kraal we've just left?" said the priest, astonished and startled.

"Perhaps. But you'd better not give me as your authority or the silly fools will take no notice of it, and get all their silly throats slit.

You can give out that you've every reason to know that mischiefs brewing--and by Jove, you have! you may take it from me, Father. Well, good-bye. I've been very glad of your company."

"Indeed, and I have been very glad of yours. I will bear in mind your warning, Mr Lamont, and I hope we may meet again."

They were to meet again, but under what circ.u.mstances either of them little dreamed.

No man living owned a cooler brain and less excitable nature than Piers Lamont, yet as he rode leisurely on he was conscious of an element of excitement entering into his scheme. He alone would avert the impending horror, and the means he had already determined on. That he might fail never entered into his calculations.

But on arrival at his farm, he met with the first check. His spare horse, which he had lent Ancram to ride into Gandela with, was not there. He had sent Zingela in for it before starting on his recent trip. Both should have been back the day before yesterday, but there was no sign of either. This did not look promising. The boy might have taken the horse and gone over to the enemy. There came out to receive him an elderly Matabele, whose business it was to look after the cattle and whom he reckoned trustworthy.

"Zingela should have been back by now, Ujojo," he said.

The man agreed, suggesting however that perhaps the strange _Inkosi_ might have wanted to use the horse longer. Lamont frowned.

"I want to go into Gandela for the races to-morrow," he said. "And there isn't a horse on the place, and this one I've just brought in is beginning to go lame. Well, take the saddle off him and give him a good feed, Ujojo. I shall have to ride him, lame and all, if the other doesn't turn up by this evening."

Ujojo led the animal away, wondering. Lamont was fidgety about his horses beyond the ordinary, and yet here he was proposing to ride one of them that was lame, and just off a fair journey into the bargain, a distance that would take him the best part of the night to cover. Yet he was totally unsuspicious as to the real motive for such insane behaviour. He concluded his master must be in love with some girl, and would go to any trouble, and make any sacrifice to get to her; as he had seen others do before him. These Amakiwa were an extraordinary race, so clever and so sensible about most things, and yet such very complete fools where their women were concerned; making themselves their servants, and carrying loads for them, and indeed doing _konza_ to them in the most abject way. _Whau_! he had seen it, he, Ujojo, many times, else had he refused to believe a tale so incredible. And now his master, whom he had reckoned quite above that sort of madness, and had respected accordingly, was going to prove himself after all just as foolish as the rest. Ujojo clicked disgustedly, and spat.

His said master the while had opened the gun-chest--a strong and solid structure, secured in addition by a patent lock--and was loading a magazine rifle to its fullest carrying capacity, slipping several additional cartridges into a coat pocket. Peters was away at Buluwayo, and he had the place to himself. Then, having refreshed the inner man, he lay down for an hour's snooze--and in truth he needed it, for he had got but little sleep last night, and would get none at all this.

And--the night after?

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

THE RACE MEETING.

The race-course at Gandela lay just outside the township, and between it and the bushy ridge Ehlatini.

It was a large, circular s.p.a.ce, surrounded by a not particularly strong bush-fence, and now on the day of the race meeting and gymkhana it presented a very lively scene indeed; for not only was practically the whole population of Gandela there gathered, but that of the surrounding district. Settlers from outlying farms, prospectors from remote camps, storekeepers and others, had all come in to see or join in the fun. And in contrast to the swarm of bronzed and belted men--coatless, and wearing for the most part the broad-brimmed American hat--a flutter of bright colour here and there of blouse and sunshade showed that the ornamental s.e.x, as represented in fa-away Matabeleland, was quite as ambitious of being up to date as anywhere else. Taking it altogether they were having a good time of it, as was bound to be the case in a locality where man was largely in preponderance, and where, in consequence, there were not enough women to go round, as we heard Clare Vidal remark.

She herself was looking altogether winsome and delightful, as she flashed forth jest and repartee among the group surrounding her, for she was holding quite a little court. Men--among them fine gallant-looking fellows who had served with some distinction in the former war--seemed to hang upon her words, or was it her tones, her smiles?--laying up for themselves, perchance, store of future heartache. Her brother-in-law, who was one of the stewards, declared she was causing a positive obstruction. A hoot of good-humoured derision arose from the group.

"Oh, go away, Fullerton, you jolly old policeman," cried one man.

"Send him off, Mrs Fullerton, do," said another.

But before Lucy had time to reply, two bronzed giants had seized the offender one by each arm, and gently but firmly marched him across the course to where an impromptu bar under a canvas awning was doing a roaring trade.

"That's better for you, old man," said one, as three gla.s.ses were set down empty.

"And unless you give us your word not to bother Miss Vidal any more we'll keep you here all day," said the other.

"Oh, I'll give you my word for anything you like," laughed Fullerton.

"We'll have another round, and then I must get back."